Crossing The Line
by NurseLintu
Summary: My first PB fic... More of a short drabble. A bit naughty. Don't like slash? DON'T read. I don't ship incest, but let's be honest; Michael and Lincoln are the only yummy ones, and the only two slashable ones. The whole brother thing is unfortunate.


**So just a teensy weensy one... I can't really get on board with the whole incest thing, but Linc and Michael are the only slashable ones on the show! Big problem! So this is just a little drabble and my first EVER attempt at incest... If I can be arsed, I MIGHT do a longer one, one day, but I think I'll have to unbrotherify them... Brilliant English, huh?**

**So I may have gotten the rating wrong, but this is NOTHING on my usual graphicness, so I'm hoping it's safe!**

The wrongness was perhaps where the appeal emanated from. And wrong it was. And sick. And all those sorts of things, but neither brother could bring themselves to care in the throes of it. It _felt_ good, and that? That was what mattered. In a world where peace and honesty and truth are hard to come by, it sometimes becomes a necessity to rely on _feelings_. Anger, guilt, denial, disgust. Those are there, but buried. Beneath the need and the raw passion.

Lincoln often found himself biting down on the pillows as he pounded in to his younger brother. They rarely traded words in these exchanges. There was no need.

Precisely what, if anything, could be said anyway?

Michael would make noise. Moans and whimpers as he clawed at his older brother's large back, legs thrown up and around his waist as he took whatever Lincoln had to offer. It was often, mostly, in fact, this way. Linc taking what he needed from his baby brother, and Michael would offer up so willingly. Sometimes Linc would plant Michael's face in a pillow, although why he did it he couldn't say. It wasn't like he didn't want to see his brother's face whilst he did what he did, because, hell no, he _loved _watchingMichael's pretty face as it creased and contorted with pleasure. It was rare they bothered with tying each other up or anything like that, but that didn't mean it didn't happen. Linc sometimes enjoyed that. Michael was so handsy, and he liked to _touch_ Linc _all the damn time_ when they played, and sometimes, Linc just wasn't in the mood for that.

Foreplay. Now. That depends. If they were feeling particularly playful, it might happen. Linc rather enjoyed going down on his brother, and making him squirm and make the most delicious noises until he nigh on exploded in his mouth. And the horny little bugger would always just turn himself over, offer his ass up to his older brother, and he'd be hard again just moments later. It was less often that Michael went down on Linc, but when he did, it was damn worth the wait. Linc would find himself tearing at the bedsheets, or the shower curtain – whatever he could reach – in an attempt to cease his desire to grab the back of his brother's head and fuck himself in to that hot, velvety heat until he found his completion. Michael was a bastard once he'd finally given in torturing Linc, and let him blow his load, and he'd make it no secret that he was still hard as the day is long, and after practically sucking Linc's brain out through the end of hid dick, he'd demand attention. The first time he'd done it had been different. Michael had simply flopped down on the bed next to Lincoln, and snuggled his nose in to Linc's neck. The wet patch on the front of his slacks lent credence to the idea that Michael hadn't needed any assistance. Linc hadn't let him forget that.

Back to the here and now, and Linc was watching his brother's pretty face crease between those blue eyes, and the way his back arched up off the bed to adjust the angle. Those full lips were kiss-plumped and parted, and the most beautiful sounds were breaking through them. Linc could hear his name being uttered between breathy moans and gentle whimpers. He'd slowed the pace down, and was now taking his time building the pace, enjoying every little noise that he was drawing out of Michael, not even bothering to hide how much he was getting off on it. He almost felt like saying something; something dirty or something deep as he might in a similar situation with someone else, but there was no need. Neither of them needed to talk nor explain, and that was how they liked it. It was primal and sick and wrong, and they would never so much as hint at it outside of this very apartment, but with no words spoken, and nothing untoward said, it could be accepted. Forgotten, even. Linc just couldn't deny for a second how much he enjoyed being the one to get his brother to make those noises. Morality aside, it was the hottest, and the best thing he had been a part of, and he wasn't ready to give that up just yet. As long as Michael was willing, so was he. They would continue this silent affair, and no one had to know, they didn't have to acknowledge it, and life could go on.


End file.
